


Porch Talks

by Spunkybob5



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Barton's Farm, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Hiding, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spunkybob5/pseuds/Spunkybob5
Summary: Clint and Steven discuss what to do next.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've not written anything for this fandom. Well, now I have. But not before. If I need more tags or something, let me know.

Steve leaned back in the rocking chair, letting the scenery wash over him. The sun was setting, golden rays pressing long shadows from the stands of trees scattered about, whilst simultaneously curling rich reds and oranges into the sky. Cicadas screeched and geese honked, but it still felt quiet. Steve was a city boy at heart, and the lack of manmade sounds left him feeling isolated, disconnected.

It was nice.

The illusion was shattered a moment later. Laughter spilled out of the house behind him. Laura was laughing – probably at Sam or Scott – and after a split second, Wanda was, too.

Steve’s left cheek twitched, dragging his face into a brief smile.

“Hey! Settle down in there! Scott, quit flirting with my wife.” The door behind Steve creaked open and slammed shut, “Hey, man.”

“Hey. What’s this?” Steve reached up, accepting the glass Clint offered.

“Coke. The good stuff, that reminds you of the 40s,” Clint dropped into the chair next to Steve, taking a pull of his beer. “Oh, and some of that crazy mead Thor left you.”

Steve took a sip, savoring the familiar taste of the Coke and the warmth of the mead, “Wow, thanks. Where did you get this?”

Clint waved a hand, “I dunno. Laura bought it at one of those specialty grocery things in town.”

“The mead?”

Clint huffed a laugh, “Nah, that shit I stole.”

Steve arched an eyebrow, “You stole from me?”

“No, no. I stole _for_ you. I knew you weren’t going back to the compound. I grabbed bags for you and Sam and Wanda,” Clint took another sip of beer. “Vision make be all-knowing or whatever, but he’s a shit watchdog. I was there for like 45 minutes before I went to get Wanda.”

“Oh,” Steve stared into his drink. “Thank you. That was really nice of you. And I’ll thank Laura, too. I didn’t even see her leave for the store.”

“No problem, pack’s in your room. And she bought it weeks ago. When the news about the Accords broke.”

They fell silent, watching night replace day. An owl joined the earlier sounds, competing with the occasional riotous laughter from inside. Steve’s cheek twitched again whenever Wanda’s voice joined the others.

“How’s Bucky?”

“Uh,” Steve took another sip, willing the mead to work faster. “He’s safe. Clean. Not a threat to anyone, including himself.”

Clint nodded, “That’s probably the best status you can hope for right now.”

“I suppose so,” Steve shifted, settling into his chair. “Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“Did I break the Avengers?”

Clint sighed, “Kinda.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Steve knew his voice sounded small, but he didn’t care. Clint wouldn’t judge.

“I know.”

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t unpleasant. They both knew the conversation was unfinished, but they let it rest, waiting until the night prompted them to continue. A square of light fell onto the grass, and a moment later, Scott’s muffled voice drifted down. Steve couldn’t quite make out the words, but the rhythm and cadence indicated a children’s story.

“He misses his daughter,” Clint leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You didn’t really have much family growing up, did you, Steve?”

Steve blinked. Clint almost always called him Cap; Steve seemed so foreign from him. A beat too long, and Steve remembered the question, “Uh, no. Just me and my mom. Bucky. And his parents watched out for me, I guess.”

Clint nodded, “I had family. A brother and a father. It wasn’t healthy, though. Not – well, just not a good example of healthy relationships. We would hurt each other. Fists, yeah, but it’s the words that sting the most, you know? Those leave the wounds that don’t really heal.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly.

Clint waved his hand again, “Thanks, but that’s not the point here. I didn’t know how to have a healthy relationship until I met Laura. She taught me how to be a good man. I mean, I knew the difference between right and wrong, a moral code or whatever, but I’m not sure I really understood how to be kind. Not til her.” Clint sighed, scrubbing his face, “I’m getting off-topic. The point is, I already have a family. I didn’t need the Avengers to fill that role for me, not the way you and Nat and Bruce and Tony do.”

“Yeah,” Steve rolled his glass between his palms.

“Even if I didn’t need it – or want it – the Avengers became my family, too. My weird, fucked up, hot mess of a family. And families fight, Steve. Mostly about stupid shit, but sometimes the really important things. But the thing that makes a family is the way they find their way back to each other.”

Steve said nothing, staring into his empty glass.

“I’m always gonna show up for you. For all the Avengers, even that stupid ant in there. Because that’s what families do.”

Steve blinked, eyes suddenly prickled with tears.

“That’s why I didn’t sign the Accords. Maybe we do need oversight, but there isn’t a chance in hell that one of us isn’t going to show up for the others. What if you were on a mission and captured, but the council wouldn’t let us retrieve you? You think that would stop any one of us?” Clint sat back, head against the rocking chair. “Hell, it didn’t even work for a week. Tony signed the damn thing, and still, the minute he thought you were in trouble, he came.”

“I, ah,” Steve wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I guess he did.”

Clint’s tone softened, “Tony’s an arrogant prick, but he’s our arrogant prick. That’s how I know we’re safe here. He won’t sell us out. We’re his family.”

The light on the lawn vanished, Scott’s voice disappearing with it. The night deepened, revealing stars Steve hadn’t seen since his time in the European theater.

“What do we do now?”

Clint stood, taking Steve’s glass, “Now? Come inside. Have another drink, play me in a game of darts. No, scratch that, help me wipe the floor with Sam and Scott in a game of darts. Then get a good night’s sleep.”

“And tomorrow?”

Clint shrugged, “Nothing. Wanda needs to recover, and you all need to lay low. In a few weeks, we’ll get Scott home – he’s pretty sure Pym can hide him. Eventually Nat will show up, and we’ll decide what to do then. Together.”

“Yeah, ok,” Steve scrubbed his hand over his face. “Clint.”

“Hmm?” Clint was trying to open the door with full hands and failing.

Steve reached around him, hand on the knob, “Thank you. For all of this. I don’t know what we would have done otherwise.”

Clint smiled, “You are a sap, Steve Rogers.”

Steve pulled open the door, “Says the guy with a houseful of kids and strays.”

“Hey – I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” Clint stepped past Steve into the house. “Who’s up for some darts?”

Steve paused, glancing into the darkness one more time, “No, I guess it’s not.” He turned and stepped into the light, closing the door behind him.


End file.
